Tales From The Department of Mysteries
by Narnboy
Summary: A series of short stories and one-shots that the Dept of Mysteries is investigating. Will update slower than my other stories, and will not contain canon characters except as extras. Ratings subject to change between each story.
1. Martin Redbush

**Martin Redbush **

Martin Redbush was lonely. He didn't quite understand that he was lonely, as he would have needed to have been _not lonely_ before in order to understand what the name for the feeling was. For now he just had this tremendous urge inside him telling him he needed to be with someone new.

It wasn't that Martin was alone. He had a mother and a father who both loved him dearly. He spent every day with at least one of them. But they were the only ones Martin spent time with.

They lived in a small building on Foula Island in the Atlantic Ocean. A stranger would call it by a size-descriptive name like 'hut'. Seeing as there had never been a stranger near the place in all of his life, Martin had always called the building by the simple name of 'home'. He had heard his parents occasionally call it 'The Clock Face' but since they had never done so consistently enough, it didn't mean much to Martin.

Ever since Martin could remember his father had disappeared for a short time each day. After breakfast he'd announce he would have to leave soon, and shortly Mom was kissing Dad, and then Martin was hugging Dad, and then Dad would walk outside the door and be gone. Being just a little boy at the time meant that Martin had no concept of how long Dad was gone, just that sooner or later the door would open and Dad would walk back in. Seeing as the time in-between Dad needing to leave and Dad coming back was time Martin would spend with just his Mom, there was no need to measure and count the time apart.

The time passed anyways, measured only in periods of wake and sleep. Martin at such a young age had not been exposed to the concept of calendars that mapped out the waking periods of his existence. He didn't really understand the concept of clocks that mapped out a single waking period for his parents, even though there was one such device in the family room of home.

Time passed and changes happened.

Dad moved out. Not having had other people to talk to, or listen to, or to observe from hiding, Martin never got the impression that his parents were 'separating' on their way to 'divorce'. He never felt there was anything wrong with the way things changed, as he had no means to compare his life with anyone else's. Things change, and they were just meant to.

Dad was gone for a bunch of waking periods, that his parents were trying to convince him were called 'days'. Martin was happy, because that meant he could spend time with Mom doing Mom & Martin things. Mom was acting normal, so Martin knew that things were the way they were supposed to be.

Then Dad came home. Martin was happy to see Dad some more, and played with Mom and Dad a lot. Mom even made a special supper with a sweet tasting dessert that had four lights flying above it. Dad stayed a whole seven 'days', and then asked Martin if he was ready to leave.

_Leave? Dad left, then came back. Dad left for days, then came back. So if I leave, then I'll come back._

Martin's decision came fast as he digested this. He could leave and come back, just like Dad.

So Dad and Martin stepped outside the door, and Martin held onto Dad's hand really tight, just like Dad told him to. Dad pulled Martin forward and everything changed. The world went black and squeezed little Martin tight, and then he spun around and nothing was the same.

Dad turned him around and they went in the door of a building that was standing just where home had been when Martin took Dad's hand. "Welcome to Clock Works, Martin," Dad said.

It turned out that Dad lived at Clock Works when he wasn't living at home. Martin went inside with Dad and spent seven days with just Dad. Seeing as he usually spent time with 'just Mom' this wasn't too hard for Martin to get used to.

Dad spent the seven days getting Martin comfortable, and setting him up with small chores to do. Now instead of playing each waking time, he would clean his room, help with the laundry and do some easy cooking. After the sun was at its highest he would help Dad do things in the place called the Workroom.

He was never in the workroom unless Dad was with him. That was a big rule Dad made to keep Martin safe. Dad showed him how to do new things in the workroom, but the second big rule was that he could only do them in the workroom.

Martin had fun with Dad during the seven days he stayed at the Clock Works. He made games out of the things Dad showed him how to do. For example, he would try to see how fast he could sort the pieces of metal that Dad gave him. While it was fun by itself to say 'Wingardium Leviosa' and watch the pieces float through the air and into the different bins, it was more fun making the pieces spin and turn on the way in. Or maybe he'd try making them bounce off of other things on the way up. Either way, he could find some kind of game to make it more interesting.

At the end of the seven days Dad asked Martin if he was ready to go see Mom. Martin was definitely pleased to hear that. Now he could 'come back' just like Dad. In a rush so much like a blur he was at the front door waiting for Dad to finish closing up the Clock Works so they could come back home. Finally the two of them stepped outside the door and Martin reached up to take his Dad's hand.

Dad wasn't ready yet. Dad reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a small device on a metal string and placed it around his own neck. He then grabbed the centre piece of it and twisted it up and down around a metal pivot (although Martin was too young to understand 'pivot' yet). He then reached down for Martin's hand, and then released the device. The world went strange again, only this time it went blurry and flashed between sun and dark times.

When the world stopped being blurry, and flashing too, Dad pulled Martin forward and everything changed. The world went black and squeezed little Martin tight, and then he spun around and nothing was the same, even though Martin knew the world again. They were in the backyard at home, or as Dad called it, The Clock Face. Dad told Martin that he would be back in a week. Martin didn't understand yet what a week was, but was happy that Dad was going to 'come back'. He ran into the house to find Mom, leaving Dad outside the door to leave.

Mom and Martin had the whole house to themselves for another seven days, and then Dad was there at breakfast again. Martin started to realize that one week was seven days, and his little self couldn't help but grin as he told his mother of his new understanding.

Dad stayed with Martin and Mom for a week, and then asked Martin yet again if he was ready to leave. Of course the little boy said yes, and off they went in the big squeezing blackness.

This became the pattern for the family. Martin would spend a week with only Mom, and then a week with both Mom and Dad, and then leave Clock Face to spend a week with only Dad at Clock Works. While at Clock Face he would play and learn the things Mom wanted him to learn, and then he would go to Clock Works and learn to make things happen when he waved his hand in the Workroom.

Time passed and changes happened.

The weather changed from mostly sunny and warm, to cool and cloudy, and then to cold and grey. Snows fell, giving Martin yet another label to his collection of separators in the periods of his life. It had only been six months (a term the boy had not sorted out yet) since his Dad first took him to Clock Works. He remembered the cold white stuff from before Clock Works, but time was vague and meaningless before that wonderful change.

Martin started noticing his clothes were getting smaller, and then they were replaced with larger, thicker ones. His parents never said why this was happening, so the lad just accepted it as normal, just like so many other things in his life.

Martin also noticed that Clock Works was even colder than Clock Face. When he asked his Dad about this, Dad explained that his house was farther out into the ocean than Mom's house. This led to a wonderful talk with Dad about the two houses. While Martin didn't understand everything, he remembered Dad saying that Clock Face was on an island called Foula Island while Clock Works was part of an island group called the Faroe Islands. He also said the two islands were so far apart that it was only Dad's leaving magic that let them visit both houses. (The leaving magic was called 'aprateen' as far as Martin could remember.)

This talk had convinced Dad (or so he said) that if Martin was old enough to start asking his own questions, he was old enough to learn more. The next day (since they were still in a Dad & Martin week) Dad showed his son how to cook a special drink. Dad said that this was covered by the rule about only doing the special things in the workroom.

They continued in this manner for many weeks. He'd spend a week with Dad learning how to be a helper in Dad's chores, and then a week being Mom's little boy, and then a week with both Mom and Dad. He loved all three times of his life, and if he had been told to choose which one he would have forever he would have died from the struggle of making a choice.

Then there was the magical day when the snows were deep around the Clock Works that Dad made a special meal with a sweet tasting dessert only instead of the four lights that Mom put on hers, Dad had put five. Dad had games for the two of them to play, and no work got done while the two of them had fun. The following day it was back to life as usual for the two of them, and soon time to stay with Mom again.

And time passed and changes happened.

It got warmer out, at the Clock Face at least. The trees grew leaves and the flowers bloomed. Mom stopped letting him play _all_ the time. Instead he helped her in the gardens and woods. She taught him how to make things grow, how to help them spread, and even when to stop them from doing both. He learned which plants would help with the scraped knees little boys get, which ones stopped a bug bite from hurting, and which ones would give him an ache in his stomach if he ate them.

Meanwhile Dad was adding to the things he taught him also. Martin made spare parts for Dad's projects in the workroom; at first by reshaping old pieces laying around. Then Dad taught him to take a small piece of wood and make a metal nail out of it.

One morning when the season was warm (Martin was just learning to call it summer) Mom made a special supper with a fancy dessert that had five lights floating over it. It was a Mom & Dad & Martin week so they all shared the special food. That night Mom and Dad both let Martin stay up later than he normally did.

They lay outside on the grassy hill. They stared at the sky and the twirling specks called stars. The rest of the summer he stayed up an hour later than he had before the meal with the five floating lights, spending the extra time watching the stars both at Clock Face and Clock Works.

By the time the trees dropped their leaves and the flowers lost their colours, Martin knew the major constellations and many of the minor ones. He knew by the sky whether he was at Face or Works. He also knew his four seasons, beyond just hot and cold. Hot was called Summer, Cold was Winter. The times between were Spring and Fall. He remembered that Spring was Green Leaves and Fall was what happened to the leaves. His parents had even started discussing something called months.

Months were more confusing than any of the other time-dividers for Martin. For some reason Mom and Dad couldn't remember them easily. Sometimes Mom would say 'A month is four weeks', and then Dad would correct her. Or Dad would say 'There are thirty days in April', and Mom would stop him. How could Martin ever understand this if his parents couldn't even agree on what a month was?

But then in late Fall, when only a few trees still had any leaves hanging on them, Dad made him another special meal with a rich and tasty dessert. This time it had six lights floating above it. And Martin was given a pet. Since this was the first creature that he had seen that he was allowed to see close enough to touch Martin promptly forgot about his problems with months and spent the rest of his week with Dad learning to take care of the small bird.

He learned the small green thing was called an Augurey, and ate flying things smaller than itself. His Dad helped him to build a small nest similar to what its mother would have made for it and hang it in the bushes outside his window at Clock Works. When asked why the small creature's mother didn't make a nest for it herself, Dad replied that the mother died when a tree fell on its bush, leaving his pet without anyone to take care of it.

Martin named his pet Leaf. Before you complain how plain and common a name that is for a pet, remember that young Martin had to this point not encountered so much as a stranger in his life, leaving him only with the more common words to use as labels for something as special as his first pet. To him Green meant spring, and life, and growing. The green bird would be his life as Fall turned to Winter.

And Dad used the gift of Leaf to start Martin in his studies of the animal life around both Clock Face and Clock Works. Part of the evening would have them watching Leaf to see the animals he would go near, which he avoided, and which he ate. Then they would watch the animals he would avoid, and together figure out _why_ they were avoided.

At Clock Face they continued the lessons in the week before Martin returned to his Dad's house. Since Leaf wasn't there to attract the attentions of the local creatures, they instead watched the ones in Mom's gardens. Which ones ate the plants, which ones avoided them, which ones ate the things that ate the plants. Mom took note and included the animals in her lessons in the garden, mentioning these same things as they worked. Martin noticed almost at once that Mom knew more about animals in the garden than Dad!

Time passed and changes happened.

The winter came and went. The spring came and went. By Summer Martin had outgrew his clothes again and again, growing 'like a weed' according to his mother. Having helped in the garden last summer he knew what she meant for real.

In the beginning of summer Dad made the special meal with a sweet tasting dessert again. This time he had seven lights floating above it. The next day Mom also made a special meal with a sweet tasting dessert, only hers had six lights.

His parents continued to teach him more knowledge of the world around him. They continued adding new subjects as they became practical. Then Dad let him use his special skills outside of the Work Room, but still only at Clock Works.

And time passed and changes happened.

Martin came to realize that every time Mom or Dad made a special meal with a sweet tasting dessert, they added an extra light to the ones they had on it the time before. He also came to realize that Mom only made the dessert in the beginning of summer, while Dad made them more often.

He still had trouble understanding months. He had tried for a while to count the days when his parents said a month was starting or ending. By the time the month was gone so was Martin's count of the days, as he had more to concern himself with than measuring the passing of time. The closest he came was deciding there were twenty weeks in a season, and even that was a guess since the season didn't seem to start or end all at once.

During the middle of the third winter since Martin had figured out what they were his parents began to act strangely.

They still lived in the two houses, the one on Foula Island and the one in the Faroe Islands. Martin still spent a week with both parents at Clock Face, followed by a week with Dad at Clock Works, and then a week with Mom back at Clock Face. He studied his lessons even if he didn't realize they were lessons (they were just what he needed to know to help his parents, he thought). And he continued to outgrow his clothes all the time. Last summer his Mom had made the dessert with eight lights, and Dad had waited two days before making one with ten.

Now in the middle of winter Mom and Dad were jumpy. There was no other word in Martin's limited vocabulary. They twitched and moved like a long-legged insect when it found Leaf right behind it. Only Leaf wasn't causing his parents to be jumpy.

But whatever was causing it they would hear a noise and jump out of their chair to stare out the window. They would see a shadow on the hilltop and stop and stare at the sky. Even Martin putting a hand on their shoulder, or coming around a corner, would make them stare elsewhere for a few moments.

Since his parents wouldn't tell him what was wrong, Martin just continued on with his lessons and chores. He would play in his free time and sleep soundly at night, secure in the knowledge that whatever was making his parents jumpy, they would handle it themselves.

By Spring his parents had calmed down, and would only jump when they were distracted. Their life continued as it had for the last four winters and summers. Clock Face and Clock Works stayed the central focus for Martin's schooling, chores, and entertainment.

By summer the jumpiness returned slightly, but was gone again before Fall set in. And that Summer Mom used nine lights and that Fall Dad used twelve lights over the special dessert. All three of them enjoyed both parties.

And time passed and changes happened.

Martin was growing older and his brain was moving faster. He made connections that he never saw before.

Dad used the skills he taught at Clock Works. Dad used the skills that he taught at Clock Works _while_ at Clock Works. Dad didn't use them at Clock Face unless he thought Martin wouldn't see him. Mom never used the skills he had learned at home. Mom had never been to Clock Works.

Did Mom even know that Dad and their son had _skills_ that she didn't? Is that why Dad made rules about where Martin could use the skills that made his chores easier?

The new connections made him question his family's life, but didn't give him the confidence to ask his mother about them. The new connections did help him ask his father about the things that Dad did at Clock Works. What the items in the Work Room were, how they meshed together to function right, and most importantly why Dad made them.

For the first time in his life, Martin was told that there were other people in the world. That people lived that were not at Clock Face or Clock Works. The items Dad made were used by these other people to make their lives easier. For Dad made clocks for people who needed to divide the time that they had between their families and their work and their play.

Clocks divide. Most clocks divide now from them. Some clocks would divide the seasons into months. Some would divide months into weeks or days. Other clocks divided the time that was to come, telling those who read them that they needed to be away soon. Then there were the special clocks. They divide here from there. Those who read them saw that they were here, but were supposed to be there. Or that their loved ones were there but moving to here.

When you had a clock and knew how to read it your life was divided. That's what Martin took from his father's description. But because Martin asked, Dad answered. And his answer was to tell his son more about his work while giving more of it to Martin. His chores and lessons got more complex.

Martin was growing older and his body started changing. By the time his father put his thirteenth light on his dessert his legs were growing faster than his chest. By the time his mother gave him a dessert with ten lights only a week later, he noticed hair was growing on his body, in places he had never had it before.

And when he had finally gathered enough courage to ask his mother what was wrong with him three weeks later, she somehow managed to summon Dad back from Clock Works three days early to talk to him about it.

Time happened and things changed.

The following winter Dad put fourteen lights over the dessert.

He spoke to Martin often of the people who bought the clocks. He described their appearance, but his son could never grasp them in his head. He described their personality and their quirks. Martin had only his parents to compare them with, and so missed most of the reasoning for his father's emotions.

What Martin did connect with he couldn't describe. The more Dad talked about those who bought the clocks the harder it was for Martin to continue staying on his parents' two islands. He had a need, an urge to go and see these people that his Dad talked about. This longing grew stronger the closer to Summer that he got.

It also grew difficult at night.

He had dreams he didn't understand. He had strange new moistures exploding out of his body while he slept. He had no desire to discuss these problems with either of his parents.

Instead he would insist on helping do the laundry. He spent a lot of time exploring the woods around his two homes. He worked hard to wear himself out so when he went to bed he wouldn't have the energy to dream, or to explode.

Then Summer came and Mom made his dessert with the eleven candles on it. It was a Mom & Dad & Martin week and they all played games until dark. Martin went to bed and exploded before morning.

And things changed.

At breakfast there was a tapping sound at the window. Turning his head Martin saw an owl sitting on the ledge, tapping the window with its beak. Before he could say anything his parents' jumpiness from two summers before returned. His mother shoved her hands into her face to stifle the moan that he already heard coming out, and his father had jumped up and ran for the front door.

As Martin sat there in shock he saw his father behind the grey bird, removing something from its ankle. The bird flew off as soon as the item was removed.

Dad came in and handed the item to his son. Having learned to read in order to help Dad with his clock-making, Martin looked at the paper item and deciphered the strange writing.

_Mr M Redbush  
>Smallest Bedroom<br>The Clock Face  
>Foula Island<br>Shetland Islands  
>Scotland<em>

He turned the thing over in his hands twice. Was this just a label that got lost from the package?

Finally he looked up at his parents. His mother said, "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Open it?" he replied. Looking down at it again he saw faint lines where two pieces of paper had been pressed together tightly. Studying them more closely he found a loose patch where he just might slip a fingernail in-between. He started gently prising the paper apart when his Dad cleared his throat.

"Let me help you, son." Dad took the paper and picked up a knife off of the table. Sliding the knife across the top of the paper, he cut through it so the pages came apart. He then handed the envelope back to Martin and let him pull out the paper inside.

And Time passed.

Martin found out he was known as a Wizard. His father told him of the great school he would be going to, by the name of Hogwarts. His lessons continued, his changing houses continued, and his yearning to be away grew as he now had someplace to actually _go_.

His second letter came, the one with the list of supplies he would need. The listed items confused Martin until his father went through it line by line with him. Even then there were questions. Could Leaf substitute for an Owl? Could silver scales be substituted for the brass ones? Dad just said he would write to the school with the questions, and then purchase the necessary items when he got a response.

Then Dad had taken Martin to Clock Works one morning in the middle of a Mom & Martin week. Instead of going into the Work Room they sat at the kitchen table while Dad had 'the talk' with his son. No, not the talk about the strange dreams and explosions. This talk was about clocks and calendars and why Martin had so many problems understanding months.

Martin had been born eleven calendar years before to Tern Redbush and his wife Ellen. While discussing their son's future they came upon a plan to help him become more powerful magically than others his age. They had determined that the British Ministry of Magic had worked hard at reducing the magical strength of children with the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. In order to get around that they agreed to live in separate houses, one in Scotland under the legal control of the Ministry of Magic, the other in the Faroe Islands under the legal control of Denmark. By doing so they felt they could train him in his magic as soon as it appeared, instead of waiting for almost seven years after most children start using unintentional magic. That was why he had only been allowed to use magic at the Clock Works.

The other part of their plan was to prevent the discovery of their plan by the use of one of Tern's magical items - a time turner. As Martin had realized when leaving the Clock Works for the first time, the world blurred and flashed before Dad had apparated to the Clock Face. This was because the time turner took them back in time to an hour after they left for the Clock Works. They always arrived in the backyard so Martin wouldn't accidentally see himself if they wound the time turner too many times. In order to keep everyone safe Martin had to promise not to discuss time turners and his magical training with anyone. After receiving the promise, Tern continued on.

He had been able to purchase the complete supplies list except for one item. In order to finish the list, Martin needed a wand. Since purchasing one inside the Ministry of Magic's domain would raise questions, Tern had arranged to barter for one with a client of his, a licensed wandmaker on a neighbouring island.

They left that lunchtime by apparation to the town of Vikar, where the wandmaker lived. Martin was incredibly nervous, as this was the first person not of his family he would ever meet. His Dad had him wear a cloak with a deep hood so he could hide his reactions to the new surroundings.

The town was small by our standards, but to Martin it was shocking. Houses close enough together he imagined you could see out of your own windows and into someone else's. Groups of five or ten people all in the same spot. Plate glass windows with assorted items displayed on the other side. He grabbed his Dad's hand for comfort in the face of so many strange things at once.

They went directly to the shop where Dad had set up the meeting. Once there, he said hello to the man inside, and then the man locked the door and pulled the shades. Dad introduced Martin to the man, and the man was introduced as Mr Dracosian. Mr Dracosian led Martin to the back of the shop and proceeded to ask him to perform a Lumos spell and hold his hand over various pieces of wood. When Martin did so without speaking, the wandmaker giggled nervously.

Noticing that the Lumos light shone brighter when held over the rowan wood, Dracosian picked up a few pieces and set them aside. Martin then moved his hand over the individual pieces of rowan and the one that glowed brightest was set aside. The wandmaker then asked the hooded boy to repeat the process over the different cores available. This time the light increased as it passed over two separate items, the seal whisker and the Augurey feather. Murmuring slightly, samples of each of the two core types were laid out for Martin to pick from. Finally the two cores were set with the wood by Dracosian.

The wandmaker let out a small gasp as Martin's Lumos flared blue-white as it passed near a gold nugget set on the corner of the worktable. Metal was only used in a wand to hold it together if great power was to be channelled through it. Setting the gold with the other items, he told Tern and Martin that the wand would be ready in two days.

Two days later Tern and Martin apparated back to Vikar and went directly to Mr Dracosian's shop. Upon entering they greeted the owner and watched as he not only closed the blinds and locked the door, but also set up privacy wards. Mr Dracosian went into the back and brought out a casket of carved stone and set it on the table in front of Martin. Tern also brought out a package and set it beside the stone box. The wandmaker motioned for Martin to open the casket and try out the wand.

The hooded boy lifted the lid and stared in awe at the wand that lay there: Fifteen inches long and polished to a white sheen. A quarter inch band of gold circling each end, with a third one five inches from the base. Lifting it up he saw the Augurey feather at the centre of the base of the wand, and looking closer he saw the end of the hair that must have been the seal whisker. Looking at the tip he saw the whisker in the middle, with the Augurey feather tip surrounding it like a crown.

Mr Dracosian explained that this wand was unique in those he had made for eleven year olds. Most wands had only a single core, usually associated with the magical talents the child was strongest in at the time. Martin's two cores were both associated with forms of water magic, not surprising as he had lived on an island his whole life. The seal whiskers gave safety from water's dangers (drowning, erosion, and more), while the Augurey feather helped with controlling water (making rain, creating tides, and more). The metal bands kept the rowan from exploding as Martin's power surged through the wood and at the same time focused the power into a purer form. Seeing as three bands were required, Martin would be quite powerful for just starting out, and would be even more powerful as time passed.

At his Dad's urging, he turned and faced a corner and said a silent Lumos. Both Tern and Dracosian shielded their eyes from the glare. He then saw a rack against the wall and did a silent Levioso spell on it. The rack, easily 75 pounds in weight, floated up until it touched the ceiling. He set it back down.

It took Tern five minutes to convince Martin to put the wand back in the casket until they got home.

Time passed.

Martin proudly showed his mother the marvellous wand he had received, and was surprised by her lack of enthusiasm. Since by the laws of the Ministry he couldn't even show her what he could do with it, he supposed that once he returned he could demonstrate and get a better reaction. That settled in his mind, he sat down to enjoy his dessert with the no flying lights.

Time passed and the big day arrived.

He got up early and finished his chores for the day. He went over his trunks and bags to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He triple-checked the owl cage his Dad had bought and made sure the nest hung freely in the centre for Leaf. He finally made it in for breakfast only to find out he was early for that too.

Time passed and by lunchtime his early rising and nervousness combined to sap his strength. He lay down for a quick nap, only to be woken by his Mom five hours later. His Dad helped him get everything together and ready to leave.

_Leave. And come back. Dad would Leave and Come Back. When I first was taken to Clock Works I would leave and come back. It's time for me to leave as a boy, and come back as a Wizard._

These thoughts calmed him as Dad stood with his arm around his shoulders on the front walk. He took a deep breath and Dad did the leaving magic as he always did.

They arrived in a place called Hogsmeade, near a train station. As before when he travelled away from home for the first time he wore his hood up covering his face, and by unspoken agreement he stayed close to his Dad's side.

Looking around he saw several other families at the depot, waiting for the big city students to arrive on the train. Curiously, he couldn't find any students his age. Almost every family had children about four and a half feet tall. Some had smaller siblings but none had anyone close to his own five and three quarter feet. Was there a different meeting place for the students?

Turning to ask his father his question he noticed that Dad was also eyeing the other families. What was going on?

Suddenly the train whistle blew, making both Martin and Tern jump in their shoes, earning them both a scolding from Leaf on his master's shoulder. Chuckling nervously, they smiled at each other, and then settled down for the train to empty. As it pulled into the station a giant of a man, easily as big compared to Dad as Martin was to the oldest children of the other families, strode out of the depot. He started shouting for the 'first-years' to come stand by him.

Realizing that meant him, Martin gave his Dad one last hug and pulled his trunks over to stand by the staff member.

"Sorry, lad. I'm collect'n th' first years. If ye'd foll' the students from ye house..." the large man said.

"I am a first year, sir. My first time away from my parents, truth be told."

Martin's calm response had the man taking a careful look at him. "Wouldn't happen to have any giants' blood in ya, would ye?" came the casual reply.

"Not that I've been told. You mean there really are giants?" Martin answered hopefully, "And are saying those little guys coming this way are really eleven like me?"

"Pretty smart for a first year, lad. Stay by me until we get this figured out, let 'em think yo'r my asst'nt."

Martin grinned broadly, "I like that plan, sir."

The story worked, and Martin made it from the train depot to the boats, and from there to the castle without anyone realizing he was one of them. He helped the giant man, Hagrid, guide the other first years, and corralled a smartalec or two, until finally there was no way to hide it.

They were left at the doors in the hands of a witch who looked decidedly... short. She introduced herself as Professor Sprout, and almost immediately told Martin to get inside with his house. It took him almost five minutes to convince her he didn't understand 'house' in this context (though he wasn't sure of his use of context, either). She ran out of time, and in order to keep things moving she had him enter the great hall with the rest.

The startled whispers in the hall as he entered made him freeze for a moment. Realizing that it was because he stood head and shoulders, and then some, above the rest of his year-mates broke him free and he hoped he hadn't bottlenecked the line too long.

Too nervous from the huge quantities of people all around him, he didn't look too closely at the wondrous sights in the great hall. Instead he focused on Hagrid up at the table in front, leaning over to talk to a severe looking witch seated in the centre of the table.

Shortly she stood up and said several things; it was hard for him to hear her over the whispered conversations going on around him and the blood pounding in his ears. At her instruction a stool was brought out and a hat placed on it.

Martin looked strangely at the hat, and then jumped when it started to _sing_. Again circumstances kept him from hearing the song clearly, but _a hat that sings?_

Before he knew it the teachers were calling up the first years one by one. The student would sit on the stool and the hat would be placed on his head, and then the hat would say which house you would stay in while at Hogwarts.

Finally it was his turn. He slowly approached the stool and sat down. He felt the hat being placed on his head, and then heard a voice in his mind.

"Hmm, what do we have here? Lots of learning. You've been taught well, maybe Ravenclaw I should yell. Not a drive to always win, I'm not thinking Slytherin. Brave and willing to fight no matter the score? Maybe you'll be a Gryffindor. Ah I see you prefer creating stuff I will make you..." The voice in his head went silent, only to be continued aloud in his ears... "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Department of Mysteries Notes on Martin Redbush

The DoM agent in charge of investigating this file had the following comments.

Tern and Ellen Redbush found a valid, even legal, loophole around the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. As the Decree was made by the British Ministry of Magic, it can only be enforced for magic performed within the area governed by the BMoM. Thus their reasoning on the dual homesites was both logical and understandable. However, as the Decree specifies that it applies to Wizarding children using a wand, and wands are not permitted to be sold for the use of children under the age of eleven, the Redbush family did not necessarily need to take their son out of the country for his magical training, especially as they exclusively encouraged his wandless magic.

As for the secondary matter of the use of the time turner to disguise their lifestyle: This case demonstrates a known hazard of frequent and long-term use of a time turner. Martin was four years old when his father first used the turner with him in tow. He then spent one week with his father, the same week with his mother, and then the second week with both parents. While there appears to be no long-term physical side effects of the prolonged use of the turner, the psychological effects are just starting to develop.

As the file indicates, in between his chronological 11th birthday of June 4, 2011 and his entering Hogwarts on September 1, 2011, Martin celebrated his actual 15th birthday. This indicates a boy with adolescent hormonal surges and desires is being housed with pre-adolescent students who have no understanding of the differences in their psychology and nothing in common with Martin, which will no doubt lead to an increasing isolation from his classmates, and a potentially dangerous tendency to socialize with the classes ahead of him in an attempt to feel normal.

My recommendation: Given both the temporal peculiarities of M Redbush's development and the power levels his wand would indicate he is capable of (not to mention the wandless magic he performs) I recommend keeping close watch on the boy for the next year. If his isolated upbringing interferes with his acceptance into the social structure of Hogwarts, offer homeschooling of him, and annual OWL and or NEWT testing to gauge his true potential. Upon successfully passing his NEWTs either at Hogwarts or through private study he should be approached to become an Unspeakable.

Unspeakable Thomas

Department of Mysteries


	2. Gilda Greenstone

**Gilda Greenstone**

"Honey, what's wrong with Gilda?"

Dorian Greenstone looked across the room at their daughter. The three year old was sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace staring into the flames. He watched her for a short while and realized she wasn't blinking at all, and her eyes didn't seem to be moving either.

"I'll take care of it, sweetheart. You finish supper." Having decided to investigate, he stood from his work desk and moved towards his brunette child. He knelt beside her, scanning the flames to see if he could tell what held her interest so firmly. Not seeing anything obvious he reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Gilda? What are you doing, sweetie?" he asked. Just as his hand touched her bare neck she turned to him with a frown on her face.

"Nana says bye-bye." A tear slid down her cheek and she flew into her daddy's arms.

He sat there rocking his littlest one, cooing meaningless sounds into her ear while it took him ten minutes for him to quiet her sobbing, and then another five for him to realize she had fallen asleep. During the fifteen minutes that took, he tried to puzzle together what had happened.

Both of Gilda's grandmothers were still living as of this very afternoon. He had spoken to his mother-in-law in Diagon Alley outside of Gringotts Bank. She had not seemed to be sick or out of sorts in any way; in fact, she mentioned her upcoming visit to Selia's house in France the following month. His wife Rumer was so envious of her mother being able to go abroad at will that she ignored the comment and tried to change the subject.

His own mother was at Hogsmeade this week. His oldest son was having a Hogsmeade Weekend from Hogwarts and she wanted to surprise him with his birthday present while he was away from school. Dorian just hoped that Gregorian would be pleased with the set of advanced charm making texts that she was giving him. It was so hard to tell from his letters what subjects the 14 year old really understood, and which he struggled to get through.

Both ladies in question were too young to be subject to sudden illnesses due to old age. Why, Marionette Swallowtail was only 73, and could look forward to at least another 80 years of good health ahead of her. And his own mother? Spry and agile as any witch of only 90 years would be, thank you very much!

That left either accidents or... Best not think about that just yet.

He stood up carefully, cradling Gilda in his arms so as not to disturb her, and moved slowly into the kitchen. Sliding a chair away from the table with one foot he positioned it near the door so he wouldn't get in Rumer's way.

"Honey, which grandma does Gilda call Nana?" he murmured quietly.

Distracted, his wife responded, "Your mother, dear. Bothers her to no end, too. She thinks she's much too young to have seven grandchildren already. You'd think they were all from just one of her children, instead of being shared around the way they are. She calls my mother 'Gamma' at the moment. Why do you ask?" She finished stirring the stew and turned to Dorian.

Seeing Gilda cried out in his arms she exclaimed, "Oh no! Not again, please?" She rushed over and tried to lift their daughter from his arms.

"I'm afraid so. Another trance, and as I disturbed her she said 'Nana says bye-bye'." He paused while he arranged his bundle in her arms. "I'll need to floo the school and let Gregorian know what to expect. Definitely not what he wanted for his 15th birthday."

Walking slowly into the living room Dorian reflected on his family.

Raising Gilda had not been an easy task. Gregorian had been easy. A sweet lovable boy with a desire to please and a level of compassion that would turn the entire muggle world into wizards to save them the heartache of being muggle. With Gregorian they just had to watch for every stray injured animal he tried to smuggle into his bedroom.

Their second son, Donovan, was also easy compared to Gilda. A typical boy, if there really was such a thing. He managed to injure himself every three weeks it seemed, all in an attempt to prove he was as good as his older brother. Forget the fact that they were seven years apart, that didn't matter to Donovan. Anything that Gregorian did, he could do too.

But Gilda? From her 2nd birthday on it was one oddity after another. Laying perfectly still staring at the candles was only the start. The crying fits when she saw things no one else did. Talking in almost complete sentences, instead of the one-word exclamations that youngsters started with. And the _topic_ of her sentences. She gave litanies of planned cheating from customers while holding the shopping bag her mother had just arrived home with. Rants of sexual interest when one of Gregorian's friends left his coat where she could lay her hands on it. Why, if Rumer had wanted the latest gossip about the neighbours, all she really needed to do was go borrow diced mushrooms from the family she was interested in, and then let Gilda hold the canister! Not that Dorian's wife actually did that... that he knew of at least.

It was actually a relief to have the Healer tell them that Gilda was a natural seer. Her talent had shown itself earlier than normal, but that just means she'll be a powerful witch if she survives growing up.

That was what worried Dorian the most. Growing up with a talent that was active whenever IT wanted to activate, Gilda was going to be under intense scrutiny by the Ministry of Magic, especially the Improper Use of Magic Office. Maybe he ought to apply for an exemption for her? No, as powerful and accurate as her talent was at only 3 years of age, they'd just 'take her under their protection'. Or 'raise her with the best instructors in the world'. No matter how they phrased it, they would take their darling daughter away and the family would never see her again, at least as family. And that was if they weren't just obliviated into forgetting they had a daughter to start with.

The best plan that Rumer and he had come up with was to start training her as soon as she could talk in sentences that were her own. After all, if she can talk clearly for herself then she can understand the things she will be taught. And starting early like that would mean she would be as moral as any child at that age - obeying her parents because they said to, until she understood the reasonings and behaved properly on her own. Time will tell if they made the right choice.

Three Years Later

"Mom! She's doing it again!"

Rumer Greenstone just shook her head and continued packing Donovan's trunk. "What are the professors going to do with you, Dear? You need to use proper sentences that explain exactly what the situation is when you're asking for help."

"Sorry mom. Gilda's trying to grab my wand so she can see what house I'm going to be sorted into. I want it to be a surprise!" Her blond son's more temperate explanation devolved into a whine. "Make her stop. Please!"

"Donovan, relax. Whether you are surprised now or surprised in front of the whole school doesn't matter. The point is you will be surprised one way or the other. And besides, you know your sister's not always accurate when she tells us what is going to happen. Just look at your Grandma Greenstone. Your father and I were convinced that she was going to die when Gilda told us she was saying 'bye-bye'. Turned out she was unexpectedly invited to go with Grandma Swallowtail on her trip to France. We had Gregorian breaking down in tears in the headmaster's office before we found out the truth. Now finish packing, and make sure you have everything. You don't want to open a package from me at the breakfast table with everything you forget, do you? Especially your underwear?"

Donovan's eyes grew wide and he rushed to his trunks to make sure everything he'd need were in there. His mother giggled lightly, and then grabbed up Gilda as she was trying to sneak up behind her brother. "And you little girl, stop picking on your brother. He told you he wants to be surprised by the Sorting Hat's choice in front of everybody, including his big brother."

"But momma! I'm not trying to see what house he's gonna be in," the little one said, "I just wanna be sure the train gets him there safe."

"That's very sweet of you Gildy, but since you never told _him_ that I can't be sure you really meant that was what you started out wanting. Making up an excuse that sounds good when you are caught is as bad as being outright mean. Do you understand me, little missy?"

"Yes momma. I'll be good." Gilda threw in a little pout to try to get momma to lighten up a little bit. Sometimes it did, but not this time.

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it. If I find out you tried to grab his wand again before the train leaves the station you'll have a very sore butt all the way home." Rumer was very adamant that her kids get along for the next few hours until they'd be separated for months.

The trip to the train station was thankfully uneventful. Donovan made it onto the train without the histrionics that Gregorian had gone through in his first year. He even went so far as to allow Gilda a hug goodbye as long as she didn't say if she saw which house he was going to be in. Gregorian showed up about then with his friends that he'd been staying with for the summer. After the usual polite (for him!) greetings he helped his little brother onto the train, telling him he had to find someplace to sit where he could make friends with the other first-years. And that was that for another year.

Walking back to the floo portal at the Leaky Cauldron, Rumer had an idea. A practical way to start demonstrating to Gilda _why_ her brothers hated her using her gift on them. After the short walk followed by the floo trip she had almost figured it out completely. Now she just had to tell Dorian and make sure she was thinking clearly on the whole matter.

Two days later it was settled. Dorian and Rumer had decided to follow her plan to 'educate' their daughter on what it is like to not be a seer.

It began innocently enough. Gilda was simply invited on a walk through the woods.

They left the house through the back door, crossed the ample lawn, and stepped out the gate. While they were still on their own grounds, the land was less cultivated out here, and the wildlife had timidly investigated the yards while keeping an eye out for whoever or whatever controlled this area. During this part of the walk they saw several small creatures, including rabbits, one small fox, several birds, and a stray canine of some sort was observed prowling a nearby gully.

After this ten-minute walk they found themselves at the edge of a wooded area. Finding a path after a moment's search, they proceeded into the shade of the trees. Gilda was spooked by the oppressive silence and started to ask her momma where they were going, only to be shushed. The walk through the woods was longer than the one across the yards, and again they startled a few creatures. This time they noticed a bowtruckle near his tree, a deer with two fawns bounding away from them, a small swarm of flying insects that the young brunette couldn't identify, and may have disturbed a nest of fairies, but they flew away so fast she couldn't be sure they weren't doxies.

Following her mother's hand signals, they quietly approached the small creek that ran near the middle of the woods. Here they saw a small herd of deer with a large stag guarding them, all drinking from the creek. The deer took off suddenly when a splash was made in the water. Gilda's head snapped to where the sound was made, but didn't see any sign of what had made the noise.

As they shadows became lighter and they reached the other side of the wood Gilda saw a wooden sign that had been erected along the path. Putting her meagre reading skills to work, she read the sign out loud.

"H-h... hog... warts... HOGWARTS! It says Hogwarts mommy!" she exclaimed.

"Really dear? Well we aren't allowed at Hogwarts while school is in session. Let's go home before we get into trouble." With that Rumer Greenstone took her daughter into her arms and apparated back to their house. They had been gone for a bit over an hour according to the clock in the front hall, and yet the trip back had taken no time at all.

"Mommy? I wanted to see the deer again!" whined the young brunette.

"Oh? But apparating is so much faster, sweetheart. Just picture the end of the trip and it's all over with. Isn't that so much better than walking through all that grass and dirt, and getting all hot in the sun and chilly in the woods?" Rumer hoped that the comparison would be made before she had to do it herself, but her daughter was quite used to seeing the ends without any notion of what led up to them.

"No mommy. I couldn't see the deer and the fairies beforehand. I want to see the fairies!" Her whine was reaching screeching ranges.

"And Donovan wanted to let the Sorting Hat surprise him with what house he would be in. And Jennifer Parvati wanted to be surprised with her birthday party. Some things are too important to take the fastest and easiest way to find out. Do you understand, dear?"

"Uh huh," she said, even though it was clear she was only saying it so mom would think she did. "Can we go for a walk again now, mommy?"

"Not today, I have to get supper ready for tonight. Why don't you go play in your room for a while?" A tapping at the window let her know the post was in. "One moment Gilda, why don't you get the mail for me, please? Make sure you bring an owl treat out for it."

A few moments later the little one was running back in. "A letter from Hogwarts! Donovan wrote us a letter already!"

"That's nice dear," Rumer said, taking the unopened envelope from her daughter. "What did he say?"

"I don't know. He had someone else put it in the envelope. The boy was confused about what was going on. I don't think Donovan told him about me," was the pouting reply.

"And why would your brother have someone else mail his letter for him? Can you tell me that?"

Gilda scrunched up her face. "Because he wanted to surprise me? That's it isn't it, mommy. He wanted me to take a walk and see what he wanted to say instead of just reading the envelope and seeing everything at once!"

"Very good. Now let's sit down on the couch and you can read the words while I hold the letter. That way you can enjoy it just like he wanted you too." The pair moved to the living room.

Later that evening, Dorian asked Gilda if she wanted to play a game of gobstones with him. Since this was one of her favourite games, she immediately yelled her agreement and ran to get the board.

Dorian set up the board for a game of Jackstones, and then asked his daughter to hand him the stones.

"Who do you think will win, sweetheart?" he asked innocently.

"You will daddy. By three points," she replied, distracted by the thought of playing with Daddy.

Dorian sat up straight. "Well, since we already know who'll win, there's no point in playing. I'm going to go read the paper." He stood up and made to leave the room.

"DADDY!"

"Yes sweetheart?" was his quiet reply.

"I'm sorry, daddy," she said in a subdued voice. "I wasn't thinking when I answered you. If we take away a stone from each of us that'll change the game so I won't know who will win. Can we still play?"

"Of course dear. I love playing with you." He reached out and offered her a hug.

"No daddy, if I hug you now I'll see the game again. I'll hug you later," she said with determination in her voice.

Dorian and Rumer smiled at each other across the room.

Five Years Later

"Hurry up Gilda; we're going to be late for the train!"

Donovan Greenstone shook his head. For someone who always knew what was going to happen, his sister sure couldn't keep track of her own stuff. "Here, let me double-check that you have everything. You don't want to open a package from mom at breakfast with the stuff you forgot to grab, especially your underwear!"

Gilda's eyes went wide. "I'll check my clothes, you check my school supplies!" She was mortified at the thought of her 16-year-old brother going through her undies!

With a small grin Donovan opened the trunk with her school supplies and slipped in a small package. Checking over the rest of the items in the trunk he pulled out her copies of _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ and _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and replaced it with his own well-footnoted copies. He then made sure everything was packed tightly so nothing shifted while the trunk was being hoisted about. By the time he had finished, Gilda had added two more sets of underclothing and a second set of dress robes, 'just in case'.

Making their way down to the front door they were surprised to see their dad standing in the front hallway. Dorian had told the family that he had to go out for the morning, and would meet them at the train station.

Giving each of them a hug, he ushered them out the door. There, on the front lawn, was a strange boxy-looking carriage. Looking closer, the siblings realized that it was regular horse-drawn carriage disguised with a glamour to look like a muggle automobile.

"I thought we'd take the slower trip to the station," their dad said, earning him a rib-breaking hug from Gilda and a more restrained one from Donovan. "I take it you approve?" he added with a smile.

"It's awesome Daddy!" Gilda hurried to the carriage and climbed in.

"Aren't you forgetting something, sis? Like your trunks?" Donovan smirked.

Sheepishly she climbed back out of the carriage and started loading her trunks, while her brother loaded his own. Finally they were on their way towards downtown London, with the hired chauffeur taking the 'scenic route' on Dorian's instructions. Gilda could not be pried away from the windows with any threats of reward or punishment.

When they arrived at the station, Rumer gave them the same goodbyes she had every year. Donovan helped his sister onto the train, warning her that she had to sit with the other first-years so she had a chance to make friends before she got to Hogwarts. A short time later the whistle blew and the train started off.

'Well that's that for another year,' thought Rumer.

Department of Mysteries Notes on Gilda Greenstone

The DoM agent in charge of investigating this file had the following comments.

Contrary to public belief, not all departments of the Ministry of Magic are as power hungry as the Greenstones think. If Miss Greenstone's abilities had become known as early as the family had discovered them, she would have been left with her family and a live-in nanny provided to help guide her development. As it stands, the Greenstones did an excellent job directing their daughter in both the use of and non-use of her talents.

With this in mind, if there had been any sign of Gilda's talents being corrupted or warped, the greenstones original fears of being obliviated would have occurred. Their shielding of their daughter from the world at large would have aided this as fewer people knew of her existence, increasing the likelihood that obliviation would have been successful.

Recommendations for the future: I recommend maintaining surveillance on Gilda Greenstone, with monthly progress reports being required from our agents inside of Hogwarts. It is not uncommon for seers to become oracles as they develop, and if this is indicated as happening with Miss Greenstone, homeschooling should be made mandatory for her. Also, have our agents encourage 'accidental' meetings between Miss Greenstone and the current Divinations instructor at the school. Having someone else with the gift nearby should encourage the development of her talents.

Upon successfully passing her NEWTs either at Hogwarts or through private study she should be evaluated to become an Unspeakable.

Unspeakable Thomas

Department of Mysteries


	3. John Smith'

The Strange Mind  
>Of John Smith<p>

By Narnboy

**Chapter One**

John Smith was an orphan. He lived in the Phineas Whitetower Home for Boys in the town of Pudsey, in-be tween Bradford and Leeds, England. Having lived there for as much of his life as he could remember he really didn't think too much of the other boys' stories and dreams of having a 'mother' or 'father'. He had Matron Giselle, who gave him as much attention as he needed whenever her duties weren't too pressing. Cook Shelly kept him fed with tasty foods, and kept him from getting big as a boulder, by means of her supervising his outdoor time. Arthur and Melvin kept him safe, keeping him inside the walls of the Home, and keeping track of all who visited. And his frequent need of seeing a nurse (as any young boy would have) were met by Nurse Clara, and when really serious issues were involved, Doctor Reynolds was called in from his practice on the south side of town. The only other adult that John had frequent contact with (other than teachers, who didn't really count as they didn't deal with _him_, just his lessons) was Doctor Mary Philips. His sessions with her were really an exercise in frustration, as she had him talk of his feelings, and what happened just before he blacked out, and then told him he was wrong to feel the way he did. Yes, he saw a psychiatrist. No, he didn't understand why he behaved the way he did at times. If the other boys would just understand they _couldn't_ do certain things around him he wouldn't have the problems he had, now would he?

Sorry, trying to write in what Miss Booker calls 'third person' doesn't work well for me, does it? Starting over now, okay?

Hi. My name is John Smith, although that is pretty much the same as an American being called John Doe. From what the staff here at the Home for Boys have told me all of my life, as short as _that_ is, I was found at the tender age of maybe three weeks at the scene of an extremely horrible accident on the north side of Pudsey. It seems my parents were out partying way too early in the day, and had stumbled drunkenly into the path of a newspaper van that was dropping the morning issue off at local businesses. They figure my parents had to be partying as they wore fancy dress, as if they had been at some sort of Renaissance Festival. (I looked that part up. Would you believe people dress up and pretend for a whole weekend that they live like it is a thousand years ago? I don't know if I could go two hours without my radio, let alone a bathroom inside the house.) And to have a newborn baby out at four in the morning? Stories like these from the staff are why I really don't want the whole 'adopted family' thing. I mean, if my real parents were so _kind_ and _loving_ towards me when I was too young to do anything except soil myself, why would anyone who adopted me be any more protective of me? I'll stick to the staff here at the home. At least I know they'll take care of me.

And the problem is I really do need protecting. Mostly from myself, as it turns out, but occasionally from the odd bully or two that get sent here to live with us.

To understand that bit of gloomy doomy I need to back up a bit in the story. Since this is the summer of the year 2011, let's make it nine years, to 2002. That's when Doc Mary first started coming to see me. Back when I was just 2 years old. As you can guess, my personal memories of that time are a bit fuzzy these days, but the staff, especially Doc Mary, just won't let me forget the events that happened even if I don't remember it myself.

It seems that I was in what they they call the 'terrible twos' I was quite the willful child. They'd put me down for a nap and I'd jump back up. They'd try to feed me mash, and I'd decorate the walls with it. The usual stuff I see whenever I get to the library to try to figure this stuff out on my own. But on the first day that I had AN EPISODE, they tried to take my blanket so they could wash it. After the usual tug of war that parents worldwide would play with a toddler to get the blanket away, it seems that the housekeeper at the time, a Mrs. Harrison, lost her patience and tried to forcefully rip the cloth from my hands. That's when it happened. Apparently my face twisted horribly, I snarled fiercely (according to reports), and then I lunged forward and bit Mrs. Harrison's hand hard enough that her skin got caught in my teeth. Matron Giselle ran in on the two of us both sounding like wild animals, as Mrs. Harrison was pounding on me trying to get her hand loose from by mouth. As you can guess, Mrs. Harrison didn't have a job here after that. The staff is _never _allowed to hit the boys, no matter the reason. But as I said, I don't remember that.

The real situation gets worse though. The things I do remember getting into, or waking up from as the case may be, are just as terrifying as that. Mainly as I remember a hole in my life. I remember sitting down to eat, and looking up to realize I'm in Nurse Clara's office again. Or I'm playing outside and find myself laying on Matron Giselle's couch in her rooms.

I mentioned bullies. Usually they try stuff during their first week here, trying to take charge of us boys. They do crap like stealing food off of other people's plates, change the telly channel in the middle of a show, or try to kick people out of the bathroom. Like I said before, the usual stuff that happens worldwide when someone new moves into a place. But then they try it on me and find out it's anything but normal.

I have been told that stealing food off of my plate has cost one bully two fingers. I bit them clean off. Another boy was luckier than that. I just broke his hand. The telly thing hasn't really bothered me, as I prefer the radio in my room. But taking the basketball I was dribbling? He wound up seeing Doc Reynolds for whatever I did to him, and was transferred over to a home in Bradford when he got better. And the shower thing? Just be glad I don't have claws or he may've been switched to the Home for Girls. And the odd part of all this is that every report I've been given about my episodes include some sort of warning growl that I give as I black out.

Be that as it may, the bullies are few and far between. I don't play group games much anymore. They find I'm too competitive to have fun with. I mentioned the basketball a moment ago. I dribble and shoot fairly well when by myself. But a game? Even one-on-one? Try to steal the ball and I go vicious. Rugby? Same thing. I can do the moves, but my 'split personality' won't let me be less than in total control of the ball. (That 'split' thing is another one of those phrases I found when I was in the library. It means that my episodes are from some sort of separate person in my head; that's why I can't remember what happens when it's over.) I gave up on anything competitive back when I was 7. That's when I broke Jeremy Brownstone's arm during an arm wrestling match. He was my best friend at the time. He won't play with me anymore.

Don't think that I only get weird when I'm 'defending' myself. Doc Mary made that mistake for two years before the staff told her about my other strangeness. If my episodes were only 'defence mechanisms' like I heard her say once, then the obvious thing would be to get me to recognize what was happening and shut off the conflict before I got violent. Doesn't work because my brain stops thinking of myself as John Smith as soon as the conflict starts. Good try, Doc Mary.

No, sometime around my fifth anniversary since I was placed here, what the other guys call my birthday, I was found crouching outside, near the line of bushes under the back wall. I hear I was perfectly still, staring at the bushes, and had been there for at least five minutes. My research... (Yeah my oddities bother me enough that I research everything I've been told about them so I can try to figure out what my problem is. Deal with it.) My research shows that a five year old who stays still for five minutes is sleeping; no exceptions. Cook Shelly had been watching me from the kitchen window, when she suddenly saw me leap forward and crash into the bushes. The never did figure out what I was watching, as they were too busy hauling me to see Nurse Clara for all the scratches I gave myself lunging into the shrubbery. All I know is I skipped supper that night, just not hungry.

Similar things have happened many times over the years. No bullies, no group games, no obvious connection to say what I was thinking when I went perfectly still. Except... The guys who know me the best don't whistle much if they know I'm nearby. Those that do... learn not to. I black out and end up jumping them for some reason. Some corner of my mind says the bushes and the whistling are connected. I haven't told Doc Mary about that corner.

But that's another reason I don't care about the whole adoption thing. The adults here know about my episodes and my strangeness and know how to deal with it. They don't whistle, they keep lots of books in the library, and they keep the bullies away so no one gets hurt. Expecting some strangers to take me in and have them deal with stuff? I know better than to get my hopes up.

Do you want to know why I am telling you this? I think things might be getting better. Either that or they're getting even stranger. As I said this is the summer of 2011, July 16, to be exact. Thirty days from tomorrow is the eleventh anniversary of my being found on the street after my drunken renaissance parents jumped in front of a moving truck at four in the morning. My eleventh birthday, as it were. And today Nurse Clara acted as weird as I sometimes do, and seemed absolutely normal doing it. As if she expected what was going on before it happened. Let me step back into that third person stuff that Miss Booker likes. I think Nurse Clara's story should be that way.

**Chapter Two**

It started on the morning of Saturday July 16, 2011. Clara Finch was at her job as live-in medical staff and housemother at the Phineas Whitetower Home for Boys. While being a nurse was a really important job in a boys' home, there really wasn't enough work with only twenty boys to have that be her only responsibility.

She was checking the backyard for obvious safety issues while the boys did their Saturday morning cleaning of their rooms. It may be summer but they kept the same schedule as they did for the school year. That made it harder for the boys to lose the habits the home tried to instil in them for after they finally left Whitetower. She walked across the lawn on all sides of the building, scanning for fallen branches and twigs, rocks that had escaped the crushed stone pathway, and other loose objects that would trip one of the residents when they came storming outside after lunch.

As she passed along the back wall, near the bushes that five-year-old John Smith had leapt into so many years ago, she heard a noise coming from overhead. She quickly looked up into the tree hanging over the wall slight ly, she really should recommend the landscapers trim it back, and saw an owl sitting in the lower branches look ing straight at her. Looking closer she noticed what looked like a stiff piece of paper gripped firmly in its beak.

Eyes lighting up in recognition, Clara stood up straight and held an arm out in front of her chest. She nodded once at the owl and it swooped down and landed on her arm. Clara murmured something to the owl, and the owl seemed to respond with a fast nodding of its head. Another mumbled comment to the owl, and Clara then reached up and took the square of paper, no, parchment from the owl's beak. Clara moved her arm farther from her body and let the owl swoop away into the morning sun. Glancing at the name written in green ink on the envelope, she gasped, and then clutched it to her chest and quickly finished her tour of the lawns.

Arriving back inside the staff room a mere twenty minutes later, she hurriedly dialled the telephone. Getting a recording on the other end she sighed deeply, and then left a message. "Doctor Philips. This is Clara Finch over at Whitetower. I have just found out what is going on with John Smith. I need an immediate meeting with you over here so we can discuss it. It is now 11:25 on Saturday morning; we have 48 hours before I will be forced to let John in on what I know. Hurry!"

She then turned and went across the hall to Madame Giselle's office. Once admitted and seated, with the door firmly shut and locked (which shocked Giselle immensely), she began.

"Madame, I have just found out where the answers for John Smith's problems can be found. I can't explain in detail at this time but I need to speak with you and Doctor Philips as soon as possible so I can explain what I can. I have already called Mary and left a message for her to get here as soon as possible." Clara sat back and waited for a response. She was pleased to wait almost a full minute while her boss considered her words instead of giving an immediate rejection.

When Giselle finally gave an answer she seemed almost desperate. "Clara, obviously you feel certain of your information. While I may have wished you had given me the chance to summon Mary, and lend credence to your information, I definitely agree that any help for Smith needs to be examined quickly. Can you at least tell me the source of your newfound insight into his problems?"

"Madame, it is not the problems that I have had an insight into, but rather a different option for treatment that has become available for him. I had been aware of the group involved through my half-brother for many years, but until today I never considered that they might be open to meeting with him, let alone... I'm sorry. I can't continue that just yet." With a trembling hand, Clara held out the envelope to Giselle. "Please don't open it. It is John's right and honour to do that himself."

Giselle took the square of parchment and looked it over. The back was sealed with a blob of purple sealing wax, into which was imprinted a large ornate heraldic shield, with four animals surrounding a large 'H'. Turning it over, she noticed the address, written in Emerald-Green Ink. "Wha-at? How did...? Who?"

_Mr. L. Silverfox  
><em>_Known as John Smith  
><em>_Phineas Whitetower Home for Boys  
><em>_Two Bedrooms To The Left Of  
><em>_The Third Floor Bathroom  
><em>_Pudsey, England_

Clara smirked. She didn't often see Madame Giselle lose control like this. "The answers are inside the envelope. While I may know what it says, to the word really, it is not up to me to explain the exact answers without getting permission from those whose secrets I hold. What I will say is that Silverfox is John's correct surname. These people cannot get that wrong. With your permission I will act as liaison between the Home and these people. It is better that there be a clear line of security with their secrets, and since I already am familiar it would save a lot of misunderstanding later."

"Yes, I think that would be best. You're sure about this? You said something about your brother?" Giselle stammered, to the amusement of Clara.

"My half-brother received his letter like that twenty years ago. As his older sister, I of course took it upon myself to read his mail when he left it in the open on his desk, folded inside a book on the bottom of a stack of them, with his door locked. What are sisters for?" Clara smirked. "Anyways, I should probably contact him and let him know he should stop by next week and talk to John; after we tell John what's going on, of course."

"Should we? Tell John, I mean. You know how he is about family and adoption and such. He'd turn on us for trying to throw him out, or some such nonsense."

"Of course we'll tell him. After all, this isn't family we're talking about, its answers to his condition. Besides, if I understand correctly, the letters will keep coming until John willingly opens one of them." Clara looked at the clock. "Madame, the boys are at lunch. Why don't you head in; I'll be behind you in a moment. I think I know the best way to tell John what is going on without saying too much."

The boys noticed that Madame Giselle and Nurse Clara were late to lunch, with Clara being almost 15 minutes late. While rare, this wasn't actually unusual. It occurred when there was major paperwork they needed to deal with, like when a new boy was moving in unexpectedly. Most of the boys noticed the new name card in Clara's hand when she came in, confirming their guesses. However, when the first boys done asked to be excused, both Madame and the nurse denied their requests and motioned them to sit back down.

Finally Nurse Clara finished eating. It seemed to the boys that the twinkle in her eye was because she knew she was being watched as she ate, and she ate slower than normal. Twenty minutes after the first boys had been anxious to get outside Nurse Clara stood slowly to her feet. She picked up the name card and held it so the writing was towards her.

"John Smith, I received a letter for you today." The whole room froze. As John stood to his feet and faced Clara she continued. "I will not give it to you until Monday, as there are many things that I need to discuss with both Madame Giselle and Doctor Philips. This is so they understand just how much this will disrupt both your life and this Home. I will, however, tell you that it was addressed to you using both the name John Smith, and your birth name. At least part of your birth name, I should say. That being said, would you like to know your proper surname?"

The room burst into excited whispers. Being orphans they all dreamed, at one time or another, of unknown family coming and claiming them. For it to happen for John, who had been there practically since birth, renewed those dreams for all of them. Meanwhile John stood in the middle of the hubbub, his brain frantically trying to deal with this sudden assault on his anti-family stance. Finally he nodded his head slowly and stepped hesitantly towards Nurse Clara. She reached out and handed him the name card.

Turning it over, he read it silently to himself. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he turned and saw Jeremy hanging onto him, a fierce happiness on his face that John realized was for him. John slowly smiled. Jeremy was still his friend. "Well Jeremy, I guess my name is John Silverfox for the moment. As soon as I read the letter, maybe I'll know what the L stands for." Both boys' faces got even brighter.

**Chapter Three**

Back to me talking. I guessed at most of the private stuff with Madame and Nurse. It at least sounds like they way they talk when they know us boys are listening so I think it is close. I really wish I could do the same for the meetings that took place after lunch, but knowing Doc Mary I wouldn't be able to spell three quarters of the words she used.

So I'll skip forward to Monday. As you can guess I was pretty excited the whole weekend. That worked though, because I saw some owls hanging around in the trees and didn't once slip into my strangeness. I just thought 'Silverfox' and went back to goofing off with Jeremy. I'm not sure that he thought my getting a letter would rub off on him, but we hung around talking like I had never broken his arm four years ago.

Then came Monday. I was called into the infirmary by Nurse Clara. Doc Mary and Madame Giselle were already in there. And there was an owl. A real, wing-flapping owl. I felt myself slipping into a daze. "Silverfox," I whispered softly. I then turned and managed to not see the owl. Instead I saw Doc Mary's face freeze in surprise. Madame's face grew a pleased grin. And Nurse Clara...

Nurse Clara smirked. "Very good, John. I knew you could control it." She pulled out a chair and sat down. "Now you know why you are here, to receive your letter from Saturday, and to send a response. Before we get to that though, there are several things I must mention first."

Turning towards the other two ladies she said, "I must first stress that because of Secrecy Laws I can only give basic information. When Mr. Silverfox," she grinned at me, "opens his letter he cannot read it out loud, for the exact same reason. What I can tell you without breaking the laws I am bound to is this."

After taking a deep breath she continued. "That letter is from an exclusive boarding school in Scotland. They are exclusive, they are eccentric, and they are particularly choosy about who is even allowed to know of their existence, let alone who they offer to teach. If you accept their training, you will live there nine months of the year, coming back here for Christmas and Easter if you choose. You will not be permitted to discuss your schooling with anyone who does not already know of the school and its courses. As I have already explained to both Madame and Doctor Mary that my younger brother attended the school. I therefore already know the answers to many of your questions, and Justin may, if he chooses, come visit you to answer what I cannot."

Looking towards the owl momentarily, she relaxed. "What the three of us have decided, in your behalf of course, is that after you open and read your letter I will draft a response for you. You will read it before I send it, of course. In it I will explain who I am in relation to the school and to you, and request a visit to explain more to you. I expect an answer within three days, so assemble a list of questions for the representative and carry it on you so you don't have to run and get it when they show up."

Madame Giselle cut in then. She said, "John, I don't want you to think that we are throwing you out. Clara has mentioned that this school may have means of helping your episodes. As she also explained, this isn't about giving you a family; it's about giving you a history. We are your family as long as you want us. Your permanent address will be here. A room will be left open for you for your return during holidays. And you will write any time you need to."

I turned to look at Doc Mary, curious as to what she had to say.

"John, go for it. I have done everything I can think of to help you with your behaviours. Nothing has worked. Now within two days of being told your surname, I witnessed you stopping an episode from happening. See what other magic they can teach you, because I am powerless to help you."

I was shocked. She was powerless? She ADMITTED she was powerless? I had nothing left to think about.

"Nurse Clara, may I have my letter now?" My voice was calm, collected. My heart was racing like a hummingbird's wing. My thoughts were stuck like a balloon in a tree branch. A yellowish square of thick paper was placed in my trembling hand.

"Just remember to not read it out loud."

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
>Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY<p>

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall

_Dear Mr. Silverfox,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins September 1, 2011. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Filius Flitwick_  
><em>Deputy Headmaster<em>

Witchcraft? Wizardry? MAGIC!

I turned my stunned eyes to Nurse Clara, the one who says she knows the truth. She just smiled at me and nodded. I read the page again. 'Enclosed list...' I pulled out page two.

Okay. Uniforms... That sounds like... "Nurse Clara? This uniform. It sounds like..."

"It is. Your parents were not at a renaissance party." She said it smoothly, easily. As if she had known forever.

"How long have you known?" Had she been covering it up? Lying to me?

She shook her head lightly. "Only since your owl arrived on Saturday. As I said, my brother attended the school, not me. I didn't see him in his dress robes much."

I looked back at the list. Next was the textbooks. No way. NO WAY! I looked up. "Where do I get my texts? I haven't heard of these before."

"I'll ask my brother. Add it to your list for the school's representative."

I nodded and moved onto the next items. Cauldron? Telescope? PET? "It says I can bring a... pet. If I get one, would I be able to bring it home on breaks?"

Nurse shrugged. "I'll discuss it with Madame Giselle before you go shopping. If I remember there are three types listed, with an 'or' in between each of them. Personally I'd suggest the cat if Madame approves, but we'll need to discuss it without you here. You're too good with those eyes, you know." I grinned. Puppy dog eyes in a Home ran by women. My personal advantage.

"Now that you've read the letter I'll write a response. You do wish to go, do you not?" She looked at me blankly, making sure I knew it was my decision.

"Yes. Yes I wish to attend this boarding school." I said it proudly, clearly, and still kept the secrecy law I had heard about.

Fifteen minutes later I was reading Nurse Clara's response. At her request I read it out loud so Madame Giselle and Doctor Mary could hear it too.

_Professor Flitwick,_

_I am Clara Finch, half-sister of Justin Finch-Fletchley. You may remember him from Madam Sprout's House, class of 1998._

_This letter is in regards to L. Silverfox, who recently received his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. He was orphaned at birth in a manner that left him unaware of his heritage and family name. As one of his caretakers at the Home he lives at, and the only one knowledgeable of Hogwarts and its curriculum, I have appointed myself liaison until someone from the school wishes to bring the Home under the Secrecy Laws._

_Mr. Silverfox has declared his intent to investigate Hogwarts more thoroughly so he may accept with open eyes. We would request a home visit here in Pudsey at the school's earliest convenience. Be aware that an appointment is necessary for the guards at the gate to allow you entrance. Mr. Silverfox would appreciate it if during the home visit you happen to bring a Healer. He has a set of symptoms that the medical community he has grown up in cannot treat. _

_If you think it advisable, please contact my brother and ask him to visit. I'm sure my ward will appreciate the chance to hear from a former student, and to try to get stories of me when I was younger._

_Clara Finch for L. Silverfox_

I looked up. "A healer?"

"You've already heard Doc Mary say she can't help you. You know that Doc Reynolds and I have done everything that we can, short of brain surgery. And with the current state of that technique it'd be like using a chainsaw to cut a birthday cake. It can be done, but do you really want what's left?"

I shuddered. "A healer then. Is there anything else I should know at this point? I want to do some reading in the library."

Madame Giselle said, "Go ahead Mr. Silverfox," and waited for my grin. "I'll see you at supper."

Nurse Clara cut in, "One moment." As I stood and watched she took an envelope and put her letter in it. She held an arm out and the owl I had been ignoring flew down to land on it. Walking to the open window I heard her say, "Take this to Professor Flitwick, please." The owl then took the letter in its beak and flew out the window. "John," she said, turning towards me, "That is why I was so pleased that you ignored the owl when you came in. I'd hate for your mailmen to avoid you because you can't control yourself around them. You may go now."

As the door closed behind me I heard Doc Mary stutter "Mailmen?" I laughed as I ran to find Jeremy.

**Chapter Four**

It's been two weeks now. Two weeks since I was told that I've been invited to attend a school to learn magic, that they might be able to heal me, and that I may have family. Thursday of that first week two people showed up to tell me about the school.

The first person was short. I mean shorter than me short. Clara (she asked me to call her by her first name as she was acting as my guardian) introduced him as Professor Filius Flitwick, Charms professor and Deputy Headmaster. Either one of those titles would have stopped me from picking on him about his size, but both together? No way would I be less than respectful! He had a high-pitched voice, waddled when he walked, and managed to make the entire infirmary literally dance when we were sure of our privacy.

The second person was tall. Not giant-tall, scrape your head on the ceiling tall; no she was just taller than any adult woman I had met so far. She was introduced as Madame Pomfrey, Matron for Hogwarts and head of their infirmary. From the moment she met me her eyes never left my body. No, not like that pervert! She's a nurse and had been told I had a 'set of symptoms'. She was watching to see what she could discover without my spelling it out for her. Spelling it out? She's a witch, she'll spell it herself!

As I said we started our interview in the infirmary. As I lay on Clara's examination table Matron waved a stick, I presume it was a wand, over me causing the air above me to glow. While she was doing this I was asking the professor my list of questions. Apparently I impressed him with the thoroughness of my questions along with my willingness to ask them while his companion ran her tests. Finally we were asking more freeform questions, as we had finished my list, when Madam Pomfrey interrupted us.

"I give up, Mr. Silverfox. I am not finding anything wrong with you in any of my scans. What is this 'set of symptoms' that you mentioned in your letter?" Prof Flitwick raised an eyebrow at that. My guess is that she doesn't admit to limits very often.

I turned to Clara. "Nurse Clara has my complete records. As anything I can tell you would be hearsay I suggest you ask her. As the medical staff for the entire Home she'd be more professional about it anyways." The look on Clara's face at my compliment was priceless.

"You don't know what your symptoms are?" asked Professor Flitwick.

I shrugged. "Oh, I know, but only from what others tell me. Every one of my episodes is entirely blacked out in my head. What I'm told is that I give some kind of warning snarl or growl, and then get super violent and self-defensive. I've been known to bite peoples' fingers off, or at least try to in most cases, I came close to castrating another boy, and will occasionally zone out and stare at the bushes for minutes at a time. I'm beginning to think I'm being possessed by a wild cat. The good thing is that since the owls started to come here, I'm finding some control over my zoning out." I glanced at the witch's face as I finished reciting that. She was stunned, and probably close to fainting.

"It can't be! Silverfox?" She suddenly took charge of herself, stood straight and started issuing orders. "Right. Filius, ward the room tight please. Miss Finch, step back by the door over there. Don't come any closer. You just lay back and let me run one last test." She began waving her wand around, this time focusing mainly on my head. Finally she touched my forehead with the stick and my head exploded.

No, not for real, but that might have left less mess. Instead my mind seemed to grow a second set of corridors. Each new corridor began exactly where the empty holes in my memories were at. What's worse? I now remember everything. Not just the facts, the who did what to whom, for my episodes, but also the what did I feel, did I plan anything, what did their blood taste like. The answers to every question Doc Mary had asked since I was two. And I mean back until I was two. Memories I had forgotten were sharp and brilliant in my mind. Mrs. Harrison didn't try to rip the blanket from my hands. No, she was trying to force me to do a reverse birth with her. No wonder I fought so hard.

Shuddering, I released a howl of rage over that memory. It came out as a 'yeoowl' instead. Not recognizing my own voice I relaxed enough to scan my body to find out what was wrong. The answer was EVERYTHING! John Smith, shy orphan who had blackouts, was gone. In his place was... Yellow and black fur. Claws instead of fingernails. Paws. Legs I couldn't straighten. Brilliant colours, even in the darkened infirmary. I jumped up, and started to freak when I landed on four feet instead of hands and knees.

Movement in front of me. A figure approached slowly, crouched low so I didn't have to stretch my neck to see it. It spoke. I recognized the voice. I sniffed. Clara! Coming closer, letting me know I wasn't alone, that she wasn't afraid of me. I calmed. I heard the professor gasping in excitement. With that heart rate it had to be excitement. Behind me, the witch. Madame Pomfrey was nervous, maybe even afraid. Of course. She doesn't know whether I'm in control or the cat.

The cat. I can feel it moving in my mind. It wants to take over, to be free. It recognizes me as its master though. The owl. I shut down the cat when the owls started coming. I am in charge and the cat knows it. I lean forward and butt Clara's hand with my head. She smiles and starts to scratch my ears. I purr.

Purring relaxes me. I know I'm safe. My body knows I'm safe. I relax and L. Silverfox returns to his own shape. I have a lot to learn but I am in charge and that's the only knowledge I need right now.

I won't bore you with the rest of that visit. Let me leave it at the fact I am a natural-born animagus. A shape shifter from a long line of cat shifters. Adrenaline will make me change automatically, but I can force the change when I want. Group sports are still a bad idea for me, but maybe track and field would work.

Later that night I told the rest of the guys the cover story. I was going to a government sponsored private boarding school for children of government agents. I couldn't talk about the place much because I would put the rest of the students in danger. No one believed me of course, at least not until Clara came over and told me I better not be discussing government secrets.

A week later Justin Finch-Fletchley came for a visit. I didn't show him my animagus, but then he didn't show me any magic either. We talked for hours about boarding schools and how to get along with others, about the uses of magic but not the magic itself, and we talked about Clara. I promised not to embarrass her too much, but that doesn't mean I can't hint at things to make her blush.

Justin has promised to come by tomorrow and take me on a shopping trip to someplace called Diagon Alley. I really like the man. From the stories I heard from other boys here in the Home, I think I'd place Justin as an Uncle. I'm going to try that out on him when he gets here. Hopefully Clara will be around to hear it. Who knows, with this whole renaissance thing going on with Hogwarts and such, maybe they'll think calling him Uncle Justin will be some sort of family alliance type of thing. I can just build a family. I like that idea.

Oh. I almost forgot. Professor Flitwick told me to ask the bankers in the Alley for a heritage test. He even gave me a letter saying he'd pay for it from his vault. Vault? This Alley better have a good bookstore. I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot of research before get on the train next month.

September 1, 2011. I plan to board the Hogwarts Express with my books and uniform in my trunk, a list of questions in my pocket, and a name of my own. Look out world, L Silverfox is coming.

**Department of Mysteries Notes on 'John Smith'**

The DoM agent in charge of investigating this file had the following comments.

An odd case indeed. An animagus whose form takes over in self-defence, but only in the mental aspects. Mr. Silverfox will be closely monitored, with his leopard animagus registration being classified for DoM eyes only.

Nurse Finch will be approached as a muggle representative of the DoM. Other wizarding children may need a place to live, and with her under the Secrecy Laws already, it would make sense to 'add them to her household' so to speak. Muggleborn staff members will be added to the Phineas Whitetower Home for Boys as needed, with Madame Giselle being brought under the secrecy laws so she may deal with problems as they come up.

I recommend that Jeremy Brownstone be given an oath of secrecy so Lionel Silverfox has someone outside the school he can talk to. I recommend this be done before September 1.

Agent Thomas

Department of Mysteries

Personal Note: Someone save me a pensieve of Headmistress McGonagall's first meeting with Mr Silverfox. The dominance games of their two animagus forms should be interesting!


End file.
